User blog:MichaelDiaz101/Recollection of the Mind: Chapter One
Author's notes: This is the next iteration in the series that follows James Lutter. During this continuation James finds himself troubled by nightmares, featuring a cold, stoic villain, and an already tragic reality. During this section James finds that his past is very quickly merging into his present, and if he can't get a hand on it, will dictate his future. The room was dark, empty. Dim light from an overhanging lamp was all that bathed the room in an almost omnipresent light. In the middle of the floor there was a body, cold, pale, lifeless. I looked away, fear gripping me as I tried to turn away from the dead man. ''"Oh, come on James." A voice could be heard. "You know you want to." I turned back to see Darrion standing over the body. "Isn't it beautiful?" He ran his long, outstretched fingers over the dead body and fixed them on it's chin. He turned the body's head to face me. It was my father, his long beard, and piercing brown eyes looked back at me. Fixed in death. '' ''"Come on James, you know you want to." My father said, though not in his warm, fatherly voice, instead he spoke in Darrion's foreboding, haunting tone.'' I woke up, sweat pouring down my forehead, my body was stiff and it took me a moment to grasp completely what happened. I blinked a few times then looked down at my hands, before running them over my face. What the fuck was that? Looking over at the bed adjacent to mine I saw that Darrion was still asleep. As frightening as he was he looked so vulnerable lying there. I sat back, breathing heavily as I did, I kept glancing over at Darrion. Even asleep I was scared of him, scared of what he'd do. My body was fighting against my mind, I was tired but my mind was sharp and on edge. What if Darrion were to take advantage of me as I slumbered? Finally I decided that whatever the case may be I needed sleep. Hours later I awoke to find Darrion gone. Somewhere during this time he must've slipped away. I think this was the most frightening thing about him, how he could get in and out of our room without me being able to even notice. After getting dressed and grabbing my backpack I made my way to the main building. I tried to come to terms with my dreams, Darrion's lifeless eyes, and evil smirk fixed on me... WHY ME?!This fixation Darrion had me truly unsettled. What is so fascinating about me? Jesus fuck, aren't there bigger fish to fry in this place? In the cafeteria I took a seat as far away from everyone else as possible. I grabbed a banana instead of the food being offered by the disgusting cook. Looking around it felt like there were eyes on me, and there were. The rich kids looked at me like I was some kind of primal animal, the Nerds were watching me with what looked like admiration, Jocks seemed to laugh at me, and the Greasers narrowed their eyes at me and studying my every move. The Bullies looked like they wanted nothing more to do than to smash my fucking face in, but they held back. Why? I knew why, but I didn't want to accept it. The only reason Russell and his boys held back on straddling me was because of Darrion. "Hey, James." Pete sat down in front of me. He looked nervous sitting with me, he was fidgeting a little in his seat. "You okay?" I asked. "Yeah, just... Saw what you did to Wade." He stuttered. "Look." I rolled my eyes. "I promise I'm not... Usually like that." I could sense that it did little to relieve him of the nerves he had, and what could I expect? I beat that kid into a bloody pulp. Somehow I absolved into violence, something I detest so much. "I know." He said, quietly. I felt like he was only saying that to put me at ease. Even Pete believed I was nothing more than a bully and that worried me. I'd never hurt him, or anyone. When the bell rang I was eager to escape all of this. I went into the hallway and went to my locker. As I put in the combination I felt two firm sets of hands grab me and force me into the locker before slamming it shut. "That's for Wade!" They growled, before making off with me still being stuck within. I tried to move, thankfully I was small enough to squeeze in enough to not be completely uncomfortable but if I'm going to be stuck here for hours this is going to suck. "Help!" I screamed, yet it sounded like no one was willing to help me out here. "Yo, you alright in there?" A voice said after I had nearly given up. "No, could you get me out please?" I pleaded. "Sure thing, bro. What's the combo?" I gave it to him and moments later it opened and I fell out, hitting the tile floor. Standing over me was a tall, massive kid standing nearly a foot over me. He was well muscled, and strong. He looked down at me curiously. "Having fun in there?" He jostled. "Not really." I replied. He held out his large hand for me, which I took to get up. "I'm Michael, Michael Jones. If you want I'll give the pussy that did this to you a wedgie." "No thanks." I got to my feet and brushed myself off. "Thanks for the offer but violence doesn't solve anything." "That's not what I saw in the Hole when you fucked that kid up." He said, giving me an amused look. "That wasn't supposed to happen." I sighed. There was no way to really explain what happened. "Yeah, well you sure made him cry like a bitch, bro." Michael chuckled. I grabbed my backpack and made my way off to class without saying so much as a word to him. Everyone had something to say about my fight, and none of it fit what really happened behind the scenes. It was so overwhelming that I wasn't sure who I could turn to. After class I decided that I needed to escape from all of this drama that was perpetually following me around. I made my way down the main steps and went to town, I had no real destination in mind. Finally I decided to hit up the comic store and grab a few. If there was one thing to distract me comics would be at the top of that list and I had no reason to go to my room unless I wanted to see Darrion. A midsized, overweight man in his mid thirties was behind the counter. "Anything I can help you with?" He had a very intense odor but I wasn't going to upset him by revolting, or cringing. I curled my lips and kept my comments to myself. "No thanks, just looking." I replied, migrating over to a section of the store furthest away from him, or anyone else. After about ten minutes of scanning the rows of comics I decided to leave. "What're ya up to?" A rough voice from behind me spoke up. I turned, stunned by having someone intrude on my line of thought. It was Erick. "Ugh... Just nothing, really." I said. "Well you sure hauled ass away from school." Erick pried further. "Was someone following you, or is it something else you're trying to get away from." "It's kind of rude to follow people." I joked, nervously rubbing the back of my head. Erick kind of freaks me out, he hardened. Well muscled, not completely tall but his presence carries a very forceful disposition. Honestly being around him there's a fuckton of red flags that go off. "It's that psycho Darrion, huh?" He got closer to me, his face inches from mine. "He's digging into your life, isn't he? What happened with your dad, and all." "How do you know about that?" My nostrils flared, fists curled up. Honestly I knew I couldn't take Erick. Just judging from the lines of bruises, and scars that lined his face meant he knew what a fight was, but I was so sick of everyone digging into my dad's death. "Chill out." He ordered. "I know loss, and I also know from the night before when we were all getting high you didn't say much about your dad. He who doesn't speak, often has the most to say." "Okay... I'll tell you." I couldn't really argue with him. He might be a brute but there's also a deeper kind of logic to the madness playing out on his weathered, beaten face. If there was someone that understood loss then it would probably be a hardened street thug like Erick. We stepped into the alleyway, and sat on the top of a dumpster and I told him everything. Everything about the robbery, my dad, our internal relationship, my mom and her drug addiction. The whole time not a look of shock, or dismay ever crossed his face. He sat there, preserved in thought. I even paused a few times and studied his thoughtful gaze, hoping he'd say something, anything. "I see." He said, brushing his chin. I was a little perplexed by his response. I threw my heart out to him and this is how he responds. "That's it?" I ask, not even trying to hide my irritation. "'I see' that's what you say? No hugs, or 'I'm sorry'? Jesus, are you even human?" "Loss is a part of life. We lose, we overcome. Those who don't overcome join the lost." He explained. "Interesting." I nodded. "I've seen friends shot by cops," he continued. "Watched my own parents slowly die by drug addiction, get thrown out of home after home after home, and honestly I've never questioned whether its fair, or unfair. Nature has no understanding of fairness. You carry your dad getting shot like it's some fucking burden, why not use it to build yourself up?" He looked at me and I could see intelligence, deep intelligence, in his eyes. Then he stood up and disappeared down the dusty alleyway. I pondered on what he just told me before noticing how late it was getting and decided to head home. Category:Blog posts